The Starving Art
by Floofeymarshmallow
Summary: Sam has begun his practice in a dangerous art that may just leave his family to pick up the pieces. TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of both bulimia and anorexia.
1. Chapter 1

**The Starving Art **

**Chapter One**

"Sam, you doing your college essays?" Dean asked when he walked into his younger brother's bedroom. Sam was sitting at the computer his dad had gotten him for his birthday **(this is noted in John's journal)**, trying to start on his college essays, but so far, failing miserably.

"Ya know, Dean, it would be a lot easier to concentrate on my essays if you would stop asking me every five minutes," Sam retorted. Dean rolled his eyes, collapsing on the seventeen year olds bed.

"When will you ever finish?" Dean asked.

"I'm inviting Ruby over tomorrow and we're gonna try to finish up together," Sam explained.

"I don't like her."

"I know you don't."

* * *

"You know, Sam, you look a little pudgy to me," Ruby – Sam's girlfriend of three weeks – said.

"Pudgy?" Sam asked. AS a marine, their father had prided himself and his children on physical fitness. They even trained in combat in their free time.

"Yeah, just a little. You'd probably only have to lose five pounds to get back to normal," Ruby said.

"I'll talk to my dad about increasing training," Sam responded.

"I can help you," Ruby said. "I know all sorts of tricks to lose weight." Sam couldn't deny that. Ruby was constantly on diets, looking as thin as ever.

"Okay."

**I'm so sorry it's short; they'll get longer, I swear. **

**Next Update: February 3rd, 2015.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Starving Art**

**Chapter Two **

Sam still did what he had said he would do and asked his father for increased training. John Winchester, being the manly marine he was, was more than happy to increase the physical exercise, and even praised his youngest son for it.

Sam, always being the one to complain about the training and insist they do normal family things with their weekends was finally in his father's good spirits for "taking physical fitness seriously".

_'Watch your calories,'_ a note from Ruby, conveniently placed in the bread cabinet, reminded him as he scribbled how many calories he was eating in his new food journal – a gift from Ruby. She had put him on a strict 500 calorie diet, which meant he really nibbled on toast for most of the day.

No butter, of course.

"Hey, Sammy, wanna go to the movies or something?" Dean asked as he walked into the kitchen. Dean was renting the house next door, being twenty-one years old, and visited whenever he wasn't working. He not living there made dieting easier. Dean always noticed changes in eating habits – especially when it had something to do with his little brother. "I'm buying," Dean tempted.

"I can't, Dean," Sam said, nibbling on his toast. "College essays."

"You still haven't finished those?" Dean asked. "They're due soon."

"I know," Sam said. "Ruby's not much help, so I'm gonna figure it out by myself. You should take Tish to the movies. I know she'll want to go." Sam made little kissy faces after saying this.

"Jeez, Sam, Tish and I are just friends! She's dating Brandon, the guy on the football scholarship."

"He's gay and you know it," Sam said.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said. He turned to walk away. "Last offer, you in or out?"

"Out."

In all honesty, it wasn't even that going to the movies was bad. It was the snacks. Dean always got kettle corn – Sam's favorite – and he just couldn't afford to be tempted.

**RedGem:** You go over your calorie limit?

Ruby's IM username popped up on Sam's computer screen and he couldn't help but smile a bit. It was good to know someone was looking out for him. Sam typed back.

**SaMiAm: **No.

They went on talking for a while; Sam didn't even bother with his college essays.

**RedGem: **What did you eat today?

**SaMiAm: **Three slices of toast; 60 calories each.

**RedGem: **Good. We need to keep pushing.

**SaMiAm: **What do you mean?

**RedGem: **Go weigh yourself.

Sam did as she said, going into his bathroom where they kept a scale. Dean used it when he was on the wrestling team in high school to make sure he would make weight for the team. It was barely touched now. Sam stepped on it.

145\. For 6'2", he was at a fairly normal weight.

**SaMiAm: **145.

**RedGem: **Subtract thirty. That's our goal.

**SaMiAm: **I only wanted to lose five pounds.

**RedGem: **But if you can lose five pounds, you can lose thirty.

**SaMiAm: **Alright. CW: 145 GW: 115.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Starving Art**

**Chapter Three**

"Sammy, you can take a break now!" John called out from where he was sitting in the bleachers of the jogging track. On the weekends when the track team was done training, John would take the boys out to run. After Dean moved out, he just went jogging around the neighborhood in his free time, but Sam continued to jog when his father would take him out.

"No thanks, dad!" Sam called out breathlessly as he passed the bleachers on his lap. "I need the exercise!"

"Sammy, you've been running with only two water breaks in the past hour," John said. "If you don't water up, you're gonna pass out, and I don't wanna drag big ass to the hospital!"

Now, John had meant the phrase 'big ass' as Sam being tall. Though, the youngest Winchester took it as him being overweight. Ruby's thoughts had reached him and he only felt like running for longer. Running faster. Eating less.

"Fine, I'll get some water," Sam said as he turned his run around and made his way to the bleachers. John tossed him his water bottle and the teenager took a large gulp of the liquid his body was craving for.

"I knew you were thirsty." John smirked before turning back to his newspaper. The father liked to catch up on the news while his boy trained, or look into cars that could be turned into scrap metal. Sam didn't know which he was doing at the moment.

Sam threw the water bottle back to his father and got started on running again.

* * *

"Time for a weigh-in," Sam whispered to himself just before stepping on the scale. "Happy thoughts."

The number landed on 135. Sam smiled to himself, practically jumping to the computer to send Ruby an IM.

**SaMiAm: **135! Piece of cake.

**RedGem: **Fake cake, I hope ;)

**SaMiAm: **Of course.

**RedGem: **Now get back to working on your real goal; 115.

Sam logged off.

* * *

He did the only thing he could. He ran. Sam's vision was going black and there was a ringing in his head, but he kept on running until he heard, "Sam!" He stopped. When vision returned, he could clearly see Dean standing on the bleachers by the jogging track.

"Yeah?" Sam called back.

"What are you running for?" It was only then that Sam realized it was raining. The dampness on his clothing wasn't sweat. It was rainwater.

"Exercise," Sam answered. He jogged to Dean, beginning to feel light headed again.

"You okay, man?" Dean asked. He placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Jeez, you're freezing. Let's go, the impala's in the parking lot."

The impala had been the family car since before Sam and Dean were even ideas. Their dad said he bought it against their mother's will when they were still dating. He had stories of how Dean was born in it and Sam was conceived in it – "Ew, dad," "You asked," – and many others after their mother died. When Dean turned eighteen, the car was given to him and John bought himself a truck. John often mentioned giving the truck to Sam when he turned eighteen and buying himself a newer car. Dean drove Sam home and nearly pushed him into the shower.

"You're probably gonna catch a damn cold," Dean said from inside the bathroom. Sam waited for his brother to walk out of the bathroom before stripping to nothing and standing on the scale.

125\. After all his hard work of restricting from foods and keeping himself working out all the time, he had finally gotten down to a weight he could smile at. But he still wasn't done with his work yet.

Sam gazed at his naked body in the mirror. He looked paler – could see the dark circles around his eyes – and his cheeks looked sunken in. He was thinner. He could see it. All he felt was disgust, though.

He didn't know why he felt it, but he did. Sam brought his fingernails to his face and could see they were a pale blue, even against his pale and clammy skin.

"I don't hear the shower running!" Dean called. Of course he was still there, waiting to make sure his brother was safe and sound – and most importantly, not sick.

"Then stop listening!" Sam called back. He turned the shower on so Dean wouldn't hear and continued to look in the mirror. His hair was now drying in that way that hair does when the air naturally dries it, and he looked through cabinets for something. For anything that could make him feel better about his body.

Sam was surprised when he found a pocketknife in the drawer that had belonged to Dean for so long. Their bathroom was shared, and there were two drawers – one for each boy. Dean had his, Sam had his. He didn't ask many questions because it was something he could use.

Without much thought, the youngest Winchester took the pocketknife, flicking out the blade and carefully dragging the – surprisingly – sharpened blade down his wrist. The euphoria that went through him was unrealistic.

After cleaning the blood, Sam jumped in the shower. He needed to shower anyway, and this way, he could continue the pleasant feeling the wound on his wrist was giving him by running it under the cold stream of water. Ruby had said that showering in cold water burned calories by your body trying to warm itself.

Sam left the shower, walking into his room and beginning to get dressed.

"Hey, Sam…" Dean cut his sentence short when he walked in while Sam was continuing to dress into a clean outfit. Sam quickly pulled down his shirt and backed away when Dean reached a hand out to him.

"Don't touch me," Sam said quickly.

"Sammy…" Dean trailed off. "You're so thin…"

"I'm fine," Sam told him. "Can you please leave my room?" Dean couldn't move. He was in shock over seeing his brother's spine. "Dean!"

"What?"

"Leave," Sam ordered. "Go to work, go home, stay here, I don't care, just get out of my room."

"Sure…" Dean sighed, walking out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Starving Art**

**Chapter Four**

"Dad, you've got to do something; that kid is getting too skinny!" Dean whisper-shouted in the kitchen on a Saturday morning. Sam was in bed, but could hear the conversation clearly. Eavesdropping had always been his best trait growing up. He knew all of Dean's dirty little secrets.

"I already told you, Dean, he's been on a diet for a while, and I think it's doing him some good," their father responded. "He looks fine to me, and he's actually been taking his health seriously now."

"He's not taking his health seriously! Look, I've been doing some research and I think he might be anorexic," Dean said. "Just…plan a dinner. We'll all eat dinner together and see what happens. If there's a problem, we fix it. If there isn't, we don't."

"Fine, Dean; we'll have dinner tomorrow night, okay?" Their dad sighed. "If you think this is a good idea. But you're cooking."

"I'll take care of everything, just be home tomorrow night so we can sit down as a family," Dean said.

Sam groaned. He needed to talk to Ruby.

**SaMiAm: **I need help.

Sam wasn't even sure if she was online or not, but it was worth a shot. Like clockwork, though, her name highlighted and popped up in his chat.

**RedGem: **What's up?

**SaMiAm: **Dean wants to have a dinner tomorrow night.

**RedGem: **You can't, you're on your zero calorie diet right now.

**SaMiAm: **I know I am, I need a way to get out of it.

**RedGem: **Have you finished your college essays yet?

**SaMiAm: **Yeah.

**RedGem: **Lie. Say you have so much work to do and can't risk the break from it. When they're eating, do sit-ups in your room.

**SaMiAm: **Thanks.

**RedGem: **If it doesn't work, hide the food in your pockets, napkins; anyway you can.

**SaMiAm: **Oh, I'm at 125 now.

**RedGem: **Good. Keep pushing. You're almost there; just ten more pounds.

* * *

"So, what did you do at work today, dad?" Sam asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He needed to keep talking. Ruby mentioned that if he kept talking, people wouldn't notice how little he was eating.

"I fixed this car that the owner thought had no hope," John answered. "They wanted to sell it for scrap, but I managed to fix it for them instead."

"How'd you talk them into letting you fix it?" Sam scraped his food around, feeling the burn of Dean's gaze on him. Dean was fixated, and not planning on moving anytime soon.

"I just told them they would get a better deal if I could fix the car, and they dared me to fix it, so I did." John smirked. "They said they'd tell their friends."

"That's awesome!" Sam grinned wide. "Maybe one of these days you can show me how to maintain a car. You know, take me to work with you and show me the ropes."

"You'd really be interested in that?" John asked. Sam, his sweet baby boy who would rather pretend to be a dragon while naked and still wet from a bath than fix a car, was asking him if he'd show him how to fix a car.

"Yeah," Sam said. "It sounds cool to be able to fix something like that." _Like how I'd fix my life if I could, _Sam thought to himself. He would never say those thoughts aloud.

"Hey, Dean, you wanna go get me a beer from the fridge?" John asked. Dean never said no when their father asked for a beer. Dean nodded and went willingly, though kept his eyes on Sam until he could no longer do so.

Sam took advantage of the opportunity and shoved some of the food in the pocket of his hoodie. It wasn't fun because they were having spaghetti, but he didn't care. Anything to get rid of those calories.

When Dean returned, Sam still hadn't taken a bite of his food, but there was now a chunk of it missing. John hadn't paid attention, as he was too busy making sure Dean didn't get any of the beer himself.

"I'm done," Sam said, standing from the table and moving to leave the room.

"Why?" Dean asked, preventing his brother from leaving. All eyes were now on the youngest Winchester.

"I still need to finish revising my essay and I have a ton of homework," Sam fibbed.

"Then you should have done it earlier," Dean said. "We're eating dinner as a family for the first time in a long time and I want to make sure you get a good dinner in you."

"Dean, I'm really bus…"

"Sit down!" Dean shouted. "You haven't had a bite of your food."

"I'm not gonna eat it, Dean!" Sam shouted right back to his brother. "Fuck, you just don't get it!"

"I get it, Sam!" Dean stood from the table. "I get that you don't want to eat because of your manorexia or what the fuck ever!"

"Boys!" John shouted over both of them. "Dean, you don't need to freak out over Sam's little problem, okay?"

"I don't have a problem!"

"I just mean whatever's going on with you, okay?" John sighed. "Look, Dean, your brother is obviously fine, there's nothing to worry about."

"He's obviously _not _fine, dad! If you don't take him to the doctor, I'll throw him in the damn car and do it myself!" Dean shouted. He rarely shouted at their father. It was a sign that he was truly worried.

"Fine, pack up the food. Sam, get in the car," John ordered.

"No!" Sam defied.

"Samuel Winchester, this is an order. Get your ass in the damn car so we can prove to your brother that nothing is wrong!" John resorted to shouting at his youngest son.

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Sam practically screamed. "You guys are just jealous because I'm losing weight and you're not! I believe in being thin! I believe in being _perfect_!"

* * *

**Next Update: ** February 24th, 2015.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Starving Art**

**Chapter Five**

117.

When the nurse at the hospital weighed him, the scale revealed the number 117. He was getting closer. Just a few more pounds until Sam would be at his goal weight. He smiled to himself.

_I can't wait to tell Ruby. _

"So he's anorexic?" Dean asked the doctor when they had a sit-down. The woman had been eyeing them in a sympathetic way. John barely noticed, but Dean knew that it was because something was deeply wrong with his little brother.

"That's the diagnosis, yes," the woman said. "Samuel is very underweight and malnourished, and if things continue the way they are, I believe it's just going to get worse." Dean cast a look at John.

"Well, how do we stop it?" John asked.

"The only way to stop it is to make him eat," the woman – Dean finally read that her name was doctor Purelli – said. "His malnourished brain isn't functioning properly and the only way to fight the disease is to get him to eat."

"But we can't make him eat, so how do we make him?" Dean asked.

"We offer a residential program here that's one-thousand dollars a day and we recommend a three month stay," doctor Purelli answered.

"That's over nine-thousand dollars, we can't afford that," John said.

"I'll work as many shifts as I can at the garage and pay for it myself," Dean said.

"Dean, you work for me, I can't afford to pay you that much," John argued.

"Then I'll get a second job!" Dean shouted. "I'll do whatever the fuck I can to make sure that kid in the other room _lives_!"

"Calm down," doctor Purelli said. "You've got a family to take care of, and we don't need to immediately put him in residential treatment. I say we have outpatient therapy and schedule a dietitian twice a week."

"You think that'll help?" Dean asked.

"If he puts in the effort," the woman answered. "Someone will have to monitor Samuel twenty-four seven. People with eating disorders are prone to self-harming in other ways."

"I'll look after him," Dean said. "I'll do whatever I can to keep him safe."

After scheduling the outpatient therapy appointment, Dean and John returned to the waiting room where Sam was slumped in a chair. Dean's green eyes looked over the teen.

_So thin, _Dean thought to himself. He wondered if only he had paid attention, maybe he would have seen the signed. But he didn't. He would have to live with that.

"It's time to go home, Sammy," Dean said gently so as not to startle the brunette with their presence. Dull hazel eyes looked up into Dean's emerald ones. "Come on."

Upon returning home, Dean grabbed a bag and immediately started to pack some of Sam's clothes. Sam was left with John while Dean did this.

"What are you doing, Dean?" John asked when he noticed his eldest son's actions.

"I'm packing Sam's shit," Dean answered. "I can keep a better eye on him at my place. He's got everything he needs at my place except for clothes and a toothbrush."

"You're not taking my son," John said angrily.

"I know how to take care of him, dad. You don't."

"I know how to take care of my own kid!"

"You weren't doing it while he was starving himself!" Dean shouted. "I know how to take care of this; I've dealt with it before."

"What the fuck do you mean you dealt with this before?" John asked.

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Dean said. "If you don't let me take Sam, I will get a damn court order. He needs someone who will actually watch him."

"You let him starve too," John argued.

"I was at work or with you, and you wouldn't listen to me whenever I tried to talk to you about Sam's condition." Dean finished packing the bag and grabbed Sam's weak hand. "We're just next door; you can still see him whenever you want."

John didn't argue when Dean took Sam to his house. John didn't say a word after hearing what his son said. Dean was right; he had let his own son starve and had thought it was a good thing. He had even told the kid he was good for doing it by promoting it as taking physical fitness seriously!

He decided from that moment on that he would work on being a better parent to both of his kids.

Dean brought Sam to his house, which was perfect, because while there was only one bedroom, there was a formal dining room where Dean could put Sam for sleeping. That way he could always keep an eye on him.

"Dad's not gonna let you keep me here," Sam said quietly. His throat was raspy. Dean shrugged.

"I don't really give a shit what dad thinks; you're staying here with me." The eldest brother began walking around the house and picking up anything that could be potentially harming. Dean was pleased to discover the knife drawer already had locks on it. He would have to talk to his landlord about that.

"Where am I gonna sleep?" Sam asked. He knew Dean's house just as well as he knew his own, and knew there was only one bedroom.

"The formal dining room has a pullout bed in there. I can go back to dad's house and get your bed before tonight," Dean answered. "Sammy, I want you to know that you're not alone in this. I know it's hard."

"How would you know anything?" Sam snapped before he realized his computer was still back in his bedroom. He would need to tell Ruby everything! "I want my computer."

"You can use my computer," Dean said.

"You have a computer?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "I got one after I moved out. It's just as good as yours."

Sam was quick after that. He searched out the computer that was located in Dean's bedroom – he knew his brother wouldn't mind him being in there – and logged onto his chat account, pleased to find Ruby online.

**SaMiAm: **CW 117.

**RedGem: **Awesome!

Sam heard Dean walk up from behind him and immediately turned around. "What are you doing?" the younger of the two asked immediately.

"The doctor told me to monitor you, so I'm monitoring," Dean explained. "You mind?"

"A little bit; this is personal," Sam said.

"Well, tough," Dean said. He sat on his bed beside the computer and grabbed a magazine that Sam vaguely recognized as having something to do with cars.

Figuring that Dean was just reading his magazine anyway, Sam turned back to the computer and began to type again.

**SaMiAm:** Just a few more pounds and I'll be at my GW.

"Does 'GW' stand for goal weight?" Dean asked. Sam turned back to glare at his brother.

"It's none of your business."

"I think it is my business," Dean said.

"And why would you think that?" Sam asked, feeling slightly offended.

"Because you're my little brother, and if you kill yourself, I would blame myself for the rest of my life."

"I'm not gonna kill myself!" Sam shouted.

"Hate to break it to you, kid, but this is the slow version of killing yourself," Dean said. "I know what's going on with you. I know why your nails are blue, I know that you're seriously underweight, and I know that your hair is starting to fall out."

Sam didn't even remember the doctor commenting on these things, and most certainly didn't tell anyone about his hair thinning and falling out. He hadn't even told Ruby this.

"How do you know this stuff?" Sam asked.

"I was there, Sammy," Dean said. "I went through the shit you're going through without the help from the doctor."

"What are you talking about?!" Sam stood from the computer. He didn't even bother to read Ruby's messages. "You were…anorexic…?"

Dean sighed. "Sammy, I was bulimic."

* * *

_bluebear17:Gah! Cliffhanger dang. So I just stumbled upon this and I really enjoy it. You don't find too many eating disorder Sam stories. I'm looking forward to the next update :)_

**Thank you so much for the review, bluebear17 ****J**** I wrote this because I had been having trouble finding eating disorder Sam stories. I did find one called, _'I am Sam' _by iamtryN, which was the best one I have found so far. I've also come across an eating disorder Dean story called, _'Thin'_. I post a new chapter every Tuesday, so stay tuned! ****J**_  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**The Starving Art**

**Chapter Six**

_"What are you talking about?!" Sam stood from the computer. He didn't even bother to read Ruby's messages. "You were…anorexic…?" _

_Dean sighed. "Sammy, I was bulimic." _

"Dean, I don't understand, how could you be bulimic? How did we not notice? And why would you do something like that? It rots your teeth out!" Sam fired his questions faster than it took for Dean to even process them.

"Why do you starve yourself? It eats away at your muscles," Dean fired back. He sighed once again, regretting what he said. "It's hard to explain, Sam. I guess it's the same way with you trying to explain your anorexia."

"I can explain it," Sam said. "I just don't want to."

"I figured maybe if I opened up to you, you'd be more inclined to talk to me about how you feel," Dean said. "I'm not a therapist or anything, but we're family. You're my flesh and blood, and that's gotta count for something."

"It counts," Sam responded. "I just don't want to talk to anyone about it."

"You seem to have no problem talking to Ruby about it," Dean said. Sam glanced back at his computer to see Ruby had responded several times.

**RedGem: **We'll increase your exercising so you'll lose even more weight.

**RedGem: **New GW?

**RedGem: **Sam?

"Sam, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't notice sooner, and I'm sorry I didn't react the right way," Dean apologized. "I want to talk to you. I want you to just listen to what I have to say, and I'll answer whatever questions you want, as long as I can have one question answered."

"…Alright…" Sam trailed off. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel at finding out that the older brother he idolized had an eating disorder. He felt heartbroken, though. _I hope that's okay, _he thought to himself.

"I was…twelve when I started," Dean said. "I was nervous about being transferred over to a different school after the zoning changed, and I was worried about having to make new friends."

Sam was aware that the new zoning for middle schools had happened when Dean was in 7th grade, and many of his friends hadn't lived in their neighborhood, so stayed in the other school.

"I made some new friends, but I was so nervous that I threw up in the bathroom after hanging out with them…" Dean laughed a little to himself. "I felt…powered after I did. It wasn't intentional, but I felt a euphoria wash over me. It was like I could float."

"Is that what got you started?" Sam asked. Dean nodded.

"After that it became a regular thing. I would eat whatever I could get my hands on – which was pretty normal for being a guy – and then I would throw it up. At first, I lost weight," Dean explained. "But I gained weight after that. Remember when I had that chubby phase?"

Sam nodded. "That was when I gained the weight," Dean said.

"How did you decide to get better?" Sam asked. "And how did we not notice?"

"You were eight, you couldn't have noticed anything wrong," Dean said. "As for dad, you know he's blind as a bat." Dean laughed again. "I decided to get better after I looked in the mirror and saw that I looked half dead in the face. I was pale, had dark circles under my eyes, my teeth looked kind of gray. The dentist fixed that up for me real nice with teeth whitening treatments."

"Do you still do it?" Dean shook his head.

"Sometimes I think about it," Dean said. "But then I think about the wrong people I was 'friends' with and how they turned out. They're better people now. I'm just glad we managed to work it out right after graduation."

"Do you think I could do it?" Sam asked. "I mean…get better."

"You can do anything you want," Dean said. "Except for dying. That's not an option." Sam laughed. "Now…do you wanna talk to me about it?"

Before he knew it, Sam was spilling everything. He was telling Dean how Ruby had told him that he was getting chunky and how he started working out more and eating less calories than it took to keep himself alive.

Sam expected Dean to be mad. His brother only smiled softly. "What?" Sam asked.

"Thank you," Dean said.

"For what?" Sam asked.

"Talking to me."


	7. Epilogue

**The Starving Art**

**Epilogue**

"Hey," Sam said as he stood face to face with her. Ruby's brown eyes stared into his hazel eyes. It was the first time they had spoken since he got out of the hospital.

After revealing everything to Dean, they went to the doctor together. Sam was encouraged to talk about everything he had said to Dean, and they discussed a treatment plan.

Sam was admitted into the hospital for an IV and a feeding tube that night, and remained in the hospital for a month. The doctors had assured the Winchesters that it was the only way for Sam to regain his body weight faster than he was losing it, and it did work.

Before the eating disorder that had actually helped Sam get closer to his family than before, he weighed a fairly normal 145 pounds. After treatment, Sam weight 163 pounds, but his weight was steadying as time went on. The doctors assured him that it was completely normal, and that he would lose the excess weight as soon as his body knew he wasn't dying anymore.

After receiving treatment for his eating disorder, Sam realized that his worst days in recovery were still better than his best days during his disordered eating habits. He felt more alive, less dead, and was even spending more time with his dad.

When Sam was released from the hospital, he began seeing John more, who, to his surprise, actually stepped up to the plate. Before treatment, John had been a big drinker, though did make sure to keep it away from his boys. While he attempted to, sometimes it did make it home, and Sam and Dean were well adjusted to this. Though, John had quit drinking, spending his weekends with both the boys, and Dean even said that Sam could go back with their dad anytime he wanted. Sam didn't leave yet, though. He still had some stuff he wanted to take care of before he did that.

"Hey," Ruby said quietly. "There's no way you're at your goal weight."

"I gained it all back," Sam told her. "I weigh around 160 now."

"You ruined all your hard work. We can start you back on a 500 calorie diet as soon as possible," Ruby said. "We can go through your kitchen and weed out the bad foods."

"I'm not doing that anymore, Ruby," Sam said. "I just got out of the hospital, and I intend to stay out of the hospital."

"Why are you doing this?" Ruby asked. "Don't you want to be perfect? To be pure?"

"There's no such thing as perfect. The cost of being perfect could have killed me. It would have if Dean hadn't caught me."

"Why were you so sloppy? You might not have gotten caught if you were more careful!"

"I'm better now, Ruby," Sam said. He turned away and began to walk toward the impala. Dean was waiting, leaning against the passenger door, waiting to open it for his younger brother. "You should get better too."

Sam walked back to the impala and got in while Dean situated himself in the passenger seat. After Dean began to drive, Sam turned to him.

"You know how I've been getting treatment from doctor Purelli?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Dean raised an eyebrow. His brother had asked the weirdest questions since they were kids, and he was waiting to hear what he had to say this time.

"I think you should get treatment too," Sam said. "For your bulimia."

"You know what, Sam?"

"What?"

"That's not such a bad idea."

* * *

Sam was packing up for college. He had finally graduated as the valedictorian and was accepted into Stanford. Well, actually, he was accepted to everywhere he had applied except for MIT, but picked Stanford as his final choice.

"God, you're gonna be so far away," Dean commented as he helped back Sam's stuff. After treatment, Sam's little room still hadn't been given the treasure which was a door, but Dean had installed a curtain to give him some privacy.

"I'll visit whenever I can," Sam said. "Maybe after I get out of classes for the summer we'll take a little road trip. We could go to the Grand Canyon."

"Man, I've always wondered how many dead bodies are down there." Dean laughed to himself, taping the last box shut. "Good thing you got this beautiful thing called a scholarship. Now I can spend my money on rent and sending you care packages."

"You don't have to send me anything," Sam said. "I've already got a job lined up at the bookstore for some extra cash, and I'll be able to afford food and everything."

"Yeah, well, I want to make sure you're taken care of properly," Dean said. "You still gonna call in your appointments with your therapist or have you scheduled for one in Cali?"

"I set up some appointments with doctor Purelli, but I think I'm gonna see if she can refer me to someone in California so that I don't have to travel for physical sessions," Sam said. "I also already checked out support groups for people with eating disorders in case I relapse."

"You're not gonna relapse," Dean said. "You're too strong for that, but thank you for easing my mind." Sam smirked and together they loaded up the boxes and duffle bags into the trunk of the truck that Sam had received as his birthday gift when he turned eighteen.

"I'm gonna miss you, man," Dean said. "It's not gonna be the same without you here to nag me."

"Same here," Sam responded. "I'll call you when I get there."

"Hell no, you call me the first time you stop to take a leak on the side of the road," Dean said. "And take your vitamins and all that crap."

"Sure thing, bro."


End file.
